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AT MY WINDOW 




At My Window 



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AT MY WINDOW 

HOURS WITH MY 
PIGEONS 

BY 

RUTH A. JOHNSTONE 

With Frontisfiece in Colors by 
SPENCER BAIRD NICHOLS 




NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



m 



* 






Copyright, 1911, by 
Frederick A. Stokes Company 



All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign 
languages, including the Scandinavian 



September, igii 



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TO 

MY HUSBAND 
AETHUR JOHNSTONE, M.D. 



PREFACE 

The inspiration of this narrative was a 
conversation with Miss Josephine M. White, 
Children's Librarian, Riverside Branch, 
New York Public Library, who was much 
interested in some little incidents I related 
to her, and thought they would form an en- 
tertaining story. 

She, also, is a lover of God's feathered 
creatures; and told me the pleasure she de- 
rived, each morning, in coming to the li- 
brary, in gazing from the elevated train at 
a certain church tower, where a colony of 
pigeons make their home. 

*'They seem to understand where to go 
for refuge," was her tender way of express- 
ing the impression they made upon her. 

Ruth A. Johnstone. 



Vll 





CONTENTS 




CHAPTER 




PAGE 




Pkeface ...... 


VII 




Prelude: Eemikiscekces . 


XI 


I. 


A Moueitii^Ct Dove 


1 


II. 


A Bride ais'd Groom and *'The Point- 






lES" 


5 


III. 


My *' Titian Blo^h^de" . . . . 


8 


IV. 


Other Characteristics 


12 


V. 


'*The Busters" 


16 


VI. 


Nesting 


21 


VII. 


A Younger Generation 


25 


VIII. 


EiPENiNG Friendship 


29 


IX. 


Bathing 


35 


X. 


Building a Nest .... 


41 


XI. 


"Bandy" 


46 


XII. 


Moulting. Teaching Them not to 






Fight 


52 


XIII. 


"Buster" Leaves His Baby in My Care 


57 


XIV. 


A Carrier -Pigeon and Some Others . 


64 


XV. 


"Jack AND Jill" "The Burglar" . 


74 


XVI. 


Shot in the Corn Field 


79 


XVII. 


Some Pigeon Feats and Antics 


86 


XVIII. 


"KissiE Corn" AND Music . 


92 


XIX. 


Pigeon Love and Confidence . 


96 


XX. 


Pigeon Gratitude and Tenderness . 


102 


XXI. 


Finale . o = , 


112 



IX 



PRELUDE 

REMINISCENCES 

WHEN I was a little girl, I often 
wondered at my dear mother's fond- 
ness for her pet canary, Dick, at whose cage 
she was wont to Unger with caressing atten- 
tions. I used to look and marvel; for, 
although an ardent lover of pets, a bird, 
particularly one in a cage, never appealed 
to me, the suggestion of captivity implying 
to my mind unhappiness for the httle caged 
one. My idea of a pet was sometliing I 
could hug and play with — an attracted 
rather than a compulsory pet: one that 
would belong to me of its own volition, 
through affection. 

I was devoted to our dog Trooper, who 
was about my own age, and was almost 
broken-hearted the morning he was found 



XI 



xii PRELUDE 

dead in our garden, poisoned by burglars 
who had entered the adjoining house during 
the night. And I thought it a very solemn 
function when Trooper was buried near my 
favorite rose bush, and I am sure some tears 
were mingled with the rose leaves strewn 
over his grave. 

I also dearly loved our gray cat Queechy, 
and all her pretty kittens, and delighted in 
holding them all in my lap together, naming 
each after a flower. The white one was 
"Lily," the one with purple eyes "Pansy," 
and the blue-eyed one, "Blue-Bell." But I 
think my favorite was the little black one 
with white paws, which my mother called 
"Topsy," considering it an appropriate 
name, especially as she was reading "Uncle 
Tom's Cabin" at the time. 

When I grew older, my beautiful black 
pony, Gipsy, had a large share of my af- 
fections; and when he had taken a lump of 
sugar from my hand and was happily 
mmiching it, it w as my custom to place my 



PRELUDE xiii 

arms around his neck, and lean my face 
against his glossy head; an attention which 
he seemed to appreciate, as he would invari- 
ably, after receiving his sugar, bend his 
graceful head toward me for the expected 
caress. 

About this time my music-master wished 
to present me with a beautiful canary, in 
approbation of my vocal improvement; but 
I declined the gift as politely as I could, ex- 
plaining to him the aversion I always had 
to a caged pet, my conception of a bird being 
a picturesque adjunct to the branch of a tree. 

And now, after a lapse of years, when I 
have been married a long time, my dearest 
pets are wild pigeons who have become tame 
at my window, having come to me of their 
own sweet wills, making themselves volun- 
tary pets. 



AT MY WINDOW 

CHAPTER I 

A MOURNING DOVE 

I HAD long been attracted to the West 
Side of New York, and after residing 
on the East Side of the city a number of 
years, we moved to a high-storied hotel over- 
looking the magnificent Hudson River, 
taking a sunny corner apartment, high up 
above ordinary dwelling houses. We came 
in the early spring, and as our chosen apart- 
ment was not in readiness, we occupied an 
adjoining one for two weeks. 

One morning we heard a soft and mourn- 
ful cooing outside one of the large windows, 
and discovered a beautiful light gray pigeon, 
with wistful amber-colored eyes. He enter- 
tained us with his pathetic plaint and we 
oifered him some crumbs, of which he par- 



2 AT MY WINDOW 

took, but with no apparent eagerness. Each 
day he came there, with his Httle mournful 
dirge, chanting, "Coo Coo-Coo!" and I fed 
him regularly,\though he never seemed par- 
ticularly hungry; giving the impression that 
he sought a haven of peaceful rest rather 
than material comfort. 

One day it was very cold, although the 
almanac proclaimed we were mid-way in 
spring and even some snow-flakes intruded, 
nestling on the window which "Coo" had 
chosen for his abode. Wishing to make him 
comfortable, I arranged some excelsior for a 
nest, placing it in a sheltered nook of the 
large window-sill. But Coo eyed it with 
suspicion, keeping aloof from it. I also 
placed a low vase filled with water near his 
crumbs, but he declined to avail himself of it, 
preferring to fly into the bath-room window, 
and quench his thirst at the tank. 

He was alwavs alone — dear little Coo, and 
I afterwards learned he was probably a 
Carolina mourning dove. 



A MOURNING DOVE 3 

When our apartment was ready we moved 
into it, wondering what would become of 
Coo, hoping our successors would be kind 
to him. But to our astonisliment, the next 
day Coo was at one of the windows, chanting 
"Coo-Coo," in the sweet familiar way, and 
we welcomed him most cordially. 

But our pretty Coo insisted upon coming 
indoors, although the weather was now soft 
and balmy. He liked to have us come close 
to him, but resented being touched; and our 
only method of requesting him to leave the 
room was pretending to take him in our 
hands, at which movement he would quickly 
fly out of the window. 

I have had many pigeons at my window 
since the coming of Coo, and they all fly off 
about sunset, having each an especial roost 
for the night. Not so with Coo however, 
for when he had been at our window a few 
days, he insisted on coming in at sunset, and 
roosting on the tank in our bath-room. Early 
in the morning he would fly off for an outing, 



4 AT MY WINDOW 

leaving, I regret to say, the bath-room in 
a very inartistic condition. For although the 
droppings of a pigeon are odorless, they are 
certainly not ornamental ; and I spent much 
time cleaning up after my pretty Coo. 

We disliked turning him out, and I tried 
covering the bath-mat, tub, etc., with a sheet, 
but even this arrangement was not success- 
ful. As I could think of no expedient for 
preserving cleanliness while harboring Coo, 
it was finally decided that he must find a 
more suitable roost. As he still persisted in 
coming in, each evening, with great reluct- 
ance we placed a barrier in the shape of an 
ice-water pitcher on the centre of the bath- 
room window-sill, with the window partially 
closed. 

Beautiful Coo resented this inhospitality, 
and left us forever. 



CHAPTER II 

A BRIDE AND GROOM, AND "tHE POINTIEs" 

ONTE bright, cold winter morning, Doctor 
called me to om* sitting-room, to enjoy 
a pretty sight. On the broad sill of the 
southern window, two beautiful pigeons were 
sunning themselves, billing and cooing to- 
gether. They appeared to be young pigeons 
who had, perhaps, recently mated. The male 
bird was jet black, with white chest looking 
like a shirt-front, and had yellow eyes. His 
mate was pure white, with large, black, lus- 
trous eyes, and a pink beak. They were a 
beautiful pair and seemed enamored of each 
other. I named them the Bride and Groom, 
calling them individually, "Blackie" and 
"White Wings." We admired them through 
the closed window, for a time, and presently 
they flew away. 



6 AT MY WINDOW 

I was rather surprised to see them at the 
same window, the following day, and later 
another pair of young pigeons, probably 
newly mated, also appeared, sunning them- 
selves happily together. The male bird was 
slate-colored, his distinguishing feature be- 
ing a pointed beak, almost as fine as wire 
toward the end. The coloring around his 
neck was a beautiful blending of green and 
crimson, which many of the pigeons have. 
He carried his head haughtily and was alto- 
gether a very aristocratic bird. On account 
of his very pointed beak, I called him 
"Pointie," a name with which he was soon 
quite familiar, and to which he always re- 
sponded. 

His mate was smaller, and very daintily 
fashioned, of darker coloring, with unusually 
bright eyes meeting your gaze with a pretty 
surprised look. Her feathers were much the 
same in color as the majority of these wild 
pigeons, but I never could mistake her out of 
a dozen, on account of her bright eyes with 



A BRIDE AND GROOM 7 

their expression of expectancy and surprise. 

I spread crumbs along the window-sill, 
and both couples partook most eagerly, and 
have been coming daily ever since; a period 
of over three years, at the time of this writ- 
ing. 

I watched them at sunset, wishing to lo- 
cate their roosts ; and the Blackies flew across 
the square to a tall building, having their 
sleeping apartment under one of the eaves, 
about on a level with my sitting-room; and 
from my eastern window I could see them 
when taking their siesta, or sitting on their 
eggs. The Pointies had cosy quarters below 
my dressing room, and I was thus unable to 
see them after they entered the dove-cote. 



CHAPTER III 



MY "TITIAN blonde" 



ONE day the Blackies flew over accompa- 
nied by a small reddish brown pigeon 
whom I called my Titian Blonde, naming 
her "Brownie." How I did learn to love that 
little brown pigeon, who used almost to talk 
to me with her expressive eyes and little 
movements peculiar to herself ! 

Another day she flew around with the 
Pointies, and the three ate their lunch- 
eon very happily together; after which they 
spread their wings, stretched themselves, and 
settled down for a sun-bath. But Pointie 
took it into liis proudly lifted head that three 
were no company, so he walked over to 
Brownie and pecked her. My Titian Blonde 
resented this with a return peck, but after 
a sharp attack from Pointie's beak, my little 



MY ''TITIAN BLONDE" 9 

Brownie took the hint that she was not want- 
ed, and flew away. The next day she came 
with the Blackies, and after a while she re- 
ceived the same discourteous treatment from 
them, and reahzing that her presence was 
not appreciated, she departed. 

Thus they came every day, my five pig- 
eons, remaining most of the time. They 
would occasionally fly away for exercise, but 
shortly return. I had their meals always in 
readiness for them, and was never afraid of 
making them sick by over-feeding ; for I un- 
derstood that, although pigeons have very 
healthy appetites, they never over-eat. I 
later discovered, however, that this fact ap- 
plied only to the older pigeons, and not to 
the squabs. 

It also subsequently appeared that the 
pigeon appetite increased, for after a while 
they seemed willing to eat almost all day, 
which was not the case in the beginning. I 
soon learned, however, the explanation of the 
apparent development of their appetites. It 



10 AT MY WINDOW 

was on account of the squabs being nourished 
by the parent bird's receiving into its opened 
beak the tiny beak of the squab, thus feeding 
the little one with predigested food. Conse- 
quently the parent was again hungry and 
sought another meal, and still another, and 
another. But in the beginning of my friend- 
ship with the pigeons they were newly 
mated, and consequently had no little ones to 
nourish. 

At that time, when their hunger was ap- 
peased, they would turn from their crumbs, 
and stretch, or rest, or preen themselves. The 
only occasion when they seemed tempted to 
eat too much was when pigeons other than 
their mates appeared. Then, I regret to say, 
they ate, apparently, for the sole purpose of 
depriving the other pigeons. 

They have some admirable instincts: the 
one that endeared them to me being their 
fidelity to their mates, never seeming to 
waver in their constancy. I have heard of a 
pigeon pining away after the death of a 
mate, but so pathetic an incident has not 



MY "TITIAN BLONDE" 11 

come under my notice. My pigeons mate 
again, and in some cases retain the old nests ; 
in others, find new ones. From the latter 
fact I infer that the first mate may be lying 
dead on the old nest. After re-mating, they 
manifest the same fidelity and affection. 

We humans, I think, might learn a lesson, 
if we would, from these little feathered crea- 
tures. 



CHAPTER IV 

OTHER CHARACTERISTICS 

BUT they also have their faults, and I 
soon discovered that their pugnacity 
toward pigeons other than their mates was 
surprising. I was also amazed at their ap- 
parent lack of affection for their young, dis- 
carding them at a tender age, insisting on 
their shifting for themselves soon after they 
had learned to fly. I was unable to reconcile 
this instinct with their loyalty to their mates, 
the eagerness mth which they built their 
nests, and the fidelity to their eggs. I at- 
tributed it to a desire to teach the youngsters 
self-reliance. 

However, I was much entertained each 
day by my five pigeons. On one occasion I 
remarked to Doctor upon a habit they had 
of flying away and quickly returning, and 

12 



OTHER CHARACTERISTICS 13 

was told that they probably sought a drink 
after the little dry crumbs. I thereupon 
placed an agate basin filled with water at one 
corner of the sill, attaching it to the awning 
hook. At first they eyed it askance, but 
presently overcoming their suspicion, they 
appeared to realize its object, and accepted 
it with much satisfaction. I then observed 
that, unlike most birds, pigeons keep their 
bills immersed until they have finished drink- 
ing. 

It also attracted other pigeons, w ho availed 
themselves of the luxury of a nice clean 
drink, but were never allowed to remain on 
the window-sill by the ones in possession. 
They seemed to regard it as their "Piazza," 
where they were wont to strut and stretch, 
and preen their feathers, making themselves 
generally at home. 

If the Pointies arrived first, they resented 
the arrival of the Blackies, and vice versa, 
each pair wishing to be alone together; quite 
unlike a bride and groom of whom I once 



14 AT MY WINDOW 

read, who selected an isolated place for pass- 
ing the honeymoon, that their romance 
might not be disturbed. After a few days, 
the bride exclaimed, "Wouldn't it be lovely 
if some friend should appear!" and the 
groom, stifling a yawn, replied, "Yes, or 
even an enemy." 

But the pigeon mates experience no ennui 
when alone together, invariably resenting the 
approach of others. At such times the male 
birds have a performance which they take 
very seriously. It is a certain little war 
dance which they execute by pirouetting, 
Hfting one foot and then the other, twirling 
around to the right, then to the left, utter- 
ing at the same time a little guttural sound 
something like "Groo-groo-groo!" We soon 
learned that this meant a protest at any 
pigeon's invading their territory; and if the 
warning is not heeded, a lively pecking 
promptly ensues, and is maintained with 
much vigor. 

To remedy this state of affairs, and pre- 



OTHER CHARACTERISTICS 15 

serve peace and harmony on the Piazza, I 
sometimes placed a supply of crumbs at one 
end, and one at the other, calling the Black- 
ies here, and the Pointies there. Then I 
would give my little Brownie some by her- 
self. Each responding to my call, they 
would thus dine happily, the mates close 
together. 

It would have been prettier to give them 
romantic names, such as Romeo and Juliet, 
Paul and Virginia, Hero and Leander, and 
so on; and I probably should have done so 
had I this narrative in mind. But at the 
time, I gave them merely nick-names by 
which to identify them, and as they were 
responsive, I made no change. 

My maid was astonished at their intelli- 
gence in responding to their names, exclaim- 
ing, "Why, ma'am, they are just like Chris- 
tians!" (meaning human beings). 

And a voice from the morris chair laugh- 
ingly added, "Yes, and they fight like Chris- 
tians!" (meaning, I hope, human beings). 



CHAPTER y 



"the busters" 



ONE afternoon, I abbreviated some 
pleasant calls, to hasten home to my 
pigeons. I had left a liberal supply of 
crmnbs, and nice fresh water; but having 
become accustomed to see them daintily 
drink before flying off for the day, preferred 
not to miss the finale. I was a little late, 
however, for the sun was just descending 
over the Jersey hills, leaving a radiant re- 
flection of crimson and gold over the shim- 
mering Hudson, as I entered my apartment. 
There were no pigeons on the Piazza, but 
as they sometimes loitered around the ledge, 
I leaned out, softly calling, "Coo-Coo-Coo," 
as was my custom. My five pets had evi- 
dently retired for the night, but to my sur- 
prise a large, bluish-gray pigeon, with hair 



16 



"THE BUSTERS" 17 

arranged apparently a la pompadour, re- 
sjionded to my call. 

Doctor, who had just entered the room, 
exclaimed, "Plello, Buster! where did you 
come from?" And since then we have called 
him "Buster," an appellation he clearly 
recognizes, though my maid refers to him as 
"the big blue pigeon." 

We spread crumbs for him, and he seemed 
very api^reciative ; and when he had ap- 
peased his hunger, and taken a drink, he 
flew off to a high apartment-building about 
a block away, his roost facing one of our 
southern windows. 

He came again the following day, and has 
come regularly ever since. He proved to 
be a domineering bird, as my pigeons soon 
discovered, endeavoring to monopohze the 
Piazza ; and many pugilistic encounters were 
the result. One day I discovered him eat- 
ing contentedly with a small, thin pigeon 
beside him. She was a forlorn looking little 
creature, this newcomer, and I assumed that 



18 AT MY WINDOW 

Buster tolerated her out of sheer pity. But 
presently he began showering caresses upon 
her, in the shape of gentle pecks around her 
head and eyes, which she returned; thus dis- 
closing the fact that they were mates. And 
in the course of time they became very inter- 
esting, endearing themselves to me by their 
almost human characteristics. Dear old 
Buster, the kind father and faithful head of 
the family, and little Mrs. Buster, the de- 
voted mate and energetic housekeeper. She 
soon developed into one of tlie prettiest pig- 
eons on the Piazza, having become plump 
and glossy. Her coloring was much the 
same as Buster's, bluish-graj^ like many of 
the pigeons. She was very slenderly built, 
though almost as tall as Buster, with eyes 
as red as carmine. 

I soon discovered this fragile bird had a 
temper out of proportion to her little frame, 
and at first I was inclined to dislike her, call- 
ing her a "little vixen." Every day she at- 
tacked my Brownie, flapping her wings in 



"THE BUSTERS" 19 

the little brown face, and pecking her. 
Buster, too, was most unchivalrous to my 
Titian Blonde, pirouetting before her, en- 
deavoring to drive her away. 

They were plainly jealous of her, thinking, 
probably, that I made too much of her, dis- 
criminating against them. When giving 
crumbs to the Busters, and calling Brownie 
to get hers, Buster would immediately leave 
his, to investigate what Brownie had. And, 
I must admit, he usually discovered some- 
thing more dainty at Brownie's place: corn 
muffin crumbs, perhaps, or a little black 
grain that is to be found among oats, which 
I sometimes procured from the livery stable. 

Brownie, however, was not afraid of Bus- 
ter, and would stand her ground fearlessly; 
but Mrs. Buster's peck must have been 
sharper, for Brownie seemed actually ter- 
rorized when Mrs. Buster approached her 
with flashing eyes. And how those little red 
eyes could flash with anger, and how soft 
and gentle they became when she was alone 



so AT MY WINDOW 

with Buster, whom she dearly loved! One 
day she made my Brownie's life so miserable 
that I tapped her head, reprovingly, and in 
caressing tones called Brownie to me, giving 
her a dainty. The Busters plainly under- 
stood that thev were in disfavor; and when, 
a little later, Mrs. Buster again attacked my 
Brownie, even Buster seemed ashamed of 
her, and pirouetting in front of her gave her 
to understand that she must leave the Piazza, 
which she promptly did, he following. 



CHAPTER VI 

NESTING 

LITTLE Brownie was wont to stay at 
the window most of the time. The 
Blackies, Pointies, and Busters would come 
and go; but Brownie was my most constant 
companion. We would sometimes spend a 
whole morning alone together. I would sit 
near the window — the Pigeons' Window we 
grew to call it — with my work-basket, or 
book, and Brownie and I would entertain 
each other. If reading, I would look up oc- 
casionally and speak to her, and she would 
respond by moving a little nearer. If en- 
gaged with my work I would sing to her, 
improvising words about a little brown pig- 
eon whom I loved. 

The crumbs were always spread for her, 
but it used to charm me to have her come 

21 



22 AT MY WINDOW 

nearer and coax for the little black grain, 
which she seemed to understand was reserved 
for her. She was altogether a very engaging 
little pigeon, and I was so accustomed to 
seeing her alone that I was much surprised, 
one beautiful day in early spring, when she 
flew over accompanied by a dark pigeon con- 
siderably larger than herself. 

I gave her crumbs, as usual, which she 
shared with her companion, who was most 
inhospitably greeted by the male birds al- 
ready on the Piazza with their mates. 
Brownie stood beside him, endeavoring to 
shield him from his aggressors, and he suc- 
ceeded in having a good meal despite the pro- 
testing "Groos" which were showered upon 
him. My little Brownie had mated, intro- 
ducing to the Piazza her heart's choice; and 
from thenceforth the four couples strove each 
to own the place; the male birds being ener- 
getic fighters. To-day one would be the con- 
queror, to-morrow another, and so on ; pugil- 
istic honors being about evenly divided. 



NESTING 23 

Shortly after this I noticed my Brownie, 
coming as of yore, alone, each morning, and 
I wondered if her mate had proved un- 
worthy, and her little romance ended. I had 
scant courtesy for her partner when he came 
a little later, after Brownie had flown away; 
addressing him as "perfidious one!" and was 
almost tempted to let him go hungry. But 
observing that the other female pigeons came 
without their mates, and later the males ap- 
peared, I rightly inferred it was nesting 
time, and that the eggs were never aban- 
doned; the female pigeons covering them in 
the afternoon, the males in the forenoon. 

Thus it was that every morning Mrs. 
Pointie, Mrs. Buster, White Wings, and 
Brownie were wont to visit the Piazza, 
spending most of their time there, eating, 
drinking, arranging their toilets, and indulg- 
ing in the luxury of dolce far niente. They 
diversified the time by occasionally pecking 
each other, but their quarrels were not of a 
serious nature. In some mysterious way, 



24 AT MY WINDOW 

they always knew when their time of rec- 
reation was over, and one after another 
would fly away. 

Shortly, a male pigeon would appear, very 
hungry, very thirsty, and apparently tired. 
Then another would come, and another, and 
another. It was pretty to see them stretch 
themselves: their wings, one leg, then the 
other, then the neck from side to side. They 
gave the impression of having been in a 
cramped position for a considerable time, 
and appreciative of the relaxation. 

I missed very much seeing my pretty 
mates together, a pleasure I was obliged to 
forego for about three weeks. 



CHAPTER VII 

A YOUNGER GENERATION 

CAN you look up from your desk a mo- 
ment," I asked, "and tell me if you 
have any difficulty in guessing whose prog- 
eny this is at the window?" 

"Perhaps it is a little Brownie," came the 
laughing reply. 

But it was not a Uttle Brownie. There, 
about mid-way on the Piazza stood a beau- 
tiful young pigeon, jet black, with a white 
dickey, and fearless dark eyes; a perfect rep- 
lica in miniature of the one I had named the 
"Bridegroom," a few months previously. He 
was a scary little fellow, and quickly flew 
away on being noticed. 

Except for his being the counterpart of 
Blackie, one would never suppose they were 
related; for the first time I saw them at the 

26 



26 AT MY WINDOW 

window together, it might be inferred they 
were bitter enemies. 

Blackie pirouetted in front of him, and 
White Wings gave him a peck. They were 
evidently saying to him, ''Go off and hustle 
for yourself!" He uttered a protesting lit- 
tle sound like "Wee-wee!" but was soon 
driven off. 

It was therefore very ludicrous, not long 
after, when little "Wee- Wee," while enjoy- 
ing his dinner on the Piazza, glanced up at 
the fluttering of approaching wings, and as 
his parents alighted with their accustomed 
confidence, pranced in front of them, twirl- 
ing around, uttering a little attempt at 
"Groo-groo-groo!" Hke the older pigeons. 
Blackie for a moment stood amazed at the 
impudence of this youngster, and then ad- 
vanced upon him. Wee- Wee stood his 
ground an instant, bravely facing his fore- 
bear, little white chest distended, but was 
presently driven off; not, however, until he 
had inflicted an unfilial peck upon his 
mother, equivalent to "Take that!" 



A YOUNGER GENERATION 27 

About this time the Busters came flying 
over, very slowly, between them a young 
pigeon, whom they were evidently teaching 
to fly. When they alighted on the Piazza I 
noticed that the squab resembled Buster, but 
had a long beak like her mother. The three 
ate together very happily, and Buster, in 
playful mood, bestowed some make-believe 
pecks upon, or rather at, his offspring. 

After a while ]Mrs. Buster fluttered her 
wings in intimation of flight and the three 
departed, the squab between her parents. It 
was a perfect little poem in pigeon move- 
ment, with the slow rhythmic movement of 
the six wings, rising and falling in unison, so 
different from the Busters' usual hasty 
flight. 

But I regret to record it was the only time 
I enjoyed the scene of the happy family; for 
when next I saw^ them on the Piazza to- 
gether, Miss Buster was receiving the same 
ungracious treatment from her parents that 
had previously been accorded little Wee- 
Wee. 



^8 AT MY WINDOW 

Miss Buster, however, mated very early 
with a young pigeon having a markedly 
pointed beak, who, I inferred, was a young 
Pointie; and I now call her Mrs. Pointie 
Junior, nde Buster. The young Pointies 
soon became the proud possessors of a little 
squab of their own, thus making the Busters 
and Pointies grandparents, which seemed 
almost incredible, especially when one re- 
garded Mrs. Pointie, so small and dainty, 
looking more like a debutante than like a 
matron and grand-mamma. 



CHAPTER VIII 

RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 

MY pigeons and I had now been warm 
friends through a long, bleak winter. 
Our friendship was not a sudden impulse, 
but an attraction of very gradual develop- 
ment. In other words, they did not become 
tame immediately on acquaintance, but day 
by day, when I had proven myself a genuine 
friend. 

At first they would take the crumbs only 
after I had closed the window and withdrawn 
a little ; but later, they resented the window's 
being down, and I have taken several colds 
in deference to their wishes. Still later, 
the tamer ones, notably the Busters and 
"Bandy," who has not yet been introduced, 
did not hesitate to come into the room look- 

29 



30 AT MY WINDOW 

ing for the crumb-box. Finally, they fought 
for the privilege of eating out of my hand. 
I hasten to explain that my hand always con- 
tained the choicest portion of the menu. 

I was sitting about mid-way in our sitting- 
room, my work-basket beside me on the table, 
intent on my work. I did not notice that 
the crumbs on the sill had vanished down lit- 
tle throats mitil my attention was called to 
the fact by hearing a fluttering of wings and 
seeing my big blue pigeon near the centre 
of the table, looking very excited and much 
disconcerted at having disturbed a bowl of 
roses, but very intent on a certain green box. 
"Why Buster!" I exclaimed, "have I ne- 
glected you?" Whereupon he flew back to 
the window, but with an air of expectancy, 
craning his neck, peering into the room. 

I promptly responded to his quest, which 
was only the first of many subsequent ones. 
Later, when I wished to play with him, I 
placed the box in different parts of the room, 
and let him search for it, Mrs. Buster of 



RIPENING FRIENDSHIP SI 

course following suit, her greatest happiness 
to be near Buster, her motto: "Whither thou 
goest, I go." 

Joining Doctor in the dining-room one 
morning, I said, "Did you leave any valua- 
bles around upstairs? The Busters are look- 
ing eagerly in the window and may treasure 
a souvenir." For the pigeons were much at- 
tracted to bright articles, and often made 
strenuous efforts to take a ring from my 
finger, or an ornament from my gown. 

In the beginning, however, there were 
some unpremeditated entrances to the room 
which were not appreciated at either side of 
the window. The first was Pointie, who was 
standing on the inner part of the sill when 
some sudden outside noise startled all the 
pigeons, and the wings were hastily spread in 
flight. Pointie, in a great flutter of excite- 
ment, flew across the room, and mistaking 
the large plate glass window for an open 
casement, dashed against it with great force, 
terrifying both himself and me. 



32 AT MY WINDOW 

"Pointle! Pointie!" I called softly to reas- 
sure him; but the poor little fellow was too 
much frightened to heed me. He flew around 
the room wildly, till finally, to my great re- 
lief, he located the Pigeons' Window, and 
was out in the open air. It was probably a 
week or more before his confidence was suf- 
ficiently restored to let him come nearer than 
the outer ledge of the window. 

On another occasion when the Busters had 
become quite tame, and my big blue pigeon 
had flown into the room toward the box of 
crumbs, which I had left uncovered on the 
floor. White- Wings craned her pretty neck, 
looked in, and seemed to think it very at- 
tractive inside. Blackie and the others were 
on the Piazza enjoying themselves as usual, 
and each head was lifted in surprise as the 
white wings fluttered and Mrs. Blackie 
alighted on the floor beside Buster, who was 
busily engaged with the crumb-box. Blackie 
came forward, gazing intently for a moment 
at his mate eating contentedly with Buster, 
and, contrary to my expectation that he 



RIPENING FRIENDSHIP 33 

would enter also, turned around and flew 
over to his roost. 

Mrs. Blackie's meal, however, was of 
short duration ; for a book, slipping from my 
lap, startled both her and Buster, the latter 
flying quickly out the window, simulta- 
neously with Whitie's upward flight across 
the room. She made the same mishap pre- 
viously made by Pointie, mistaking the large 
eastern window for an open space, dashing 
against it with great force. The impact 
threw the little white form to the floor, and 
for a moment I had a great fear. 

But she presently lifted her head, looking 
around as if dazed, and then flew upward, 
alighting on the back of a chair, where she 
remained a few moments, seemingly content. 
I drew the blind down to prevent her re- 
peating her mistake, and spoke caressingly 
to her. She gazed across the room at the pig- 
eons on the window-sill, but made no attempt 
to join them, resting on her perch as if taking 
her bearings, or recovering from her hurt. 
She remained in the room a while, and then 



34 AT MY WINDOW 

flew out on the Piazza, resting in the sunshine 
for a moment before flying over to her roost. 

But poor httle White- Wings received no 
welcome home, for to my amazement, Black- 
ie, who was at the entrance of the dove-cote, 
apparently awaiting her return, pirouetted 
in front of her as she alighted, and would 
not allow her to enter the httle home. He 
evidently resented her long absence ; and hav- 
ing last seen her at the crumb-box with Bus- 
ter, some jealous thought may have entered 
his glossy head. Perhaps he fancied his 
pretty mate had cast an approving glance 
at Buster's pompadour, or that Buster was 
enamored of her lustrous eyes. But I, who 
chaperoned the whole affair, could have satis- 
fied him that his suspicions were unjustified, 
that the glances of admiration were centered 
entirely on the crumb-box. 

I heartily sympathized with little White- 
Wings, and was relieved, the next morning, 
to see them flying over together, as usual. It 
gratified me to know that the matrimonial 
tangle was happily unraveled. 



CHAPTER IX 

BATHING 

DURING the cold winter days, I was 
frequently obliged to take the agate 
basin into the bath-room, remove the ice, and 
refill it. But at the time of which I am now 
writing — the later spring and early summer, 
the time of my first acquaintance with the 
younger generation — I used generally to 
wash the basin in the morning, fill it, and 
merely replenish it during the day. But I 
soon discovered that more was expected of 
me. 

Buster was taking a long slow drink, en- 
couraged by a kindly voice from the morris 
chair, "Drink hearty" and on turning to the 
window a moment later I discovered him in 
the center of the basin. 

35 



36 AT MY WINDOW 

"Dear old Buster" I exclaimed, "did you 
slip in? Are you frightened?" 

But my big blue pigeon repudiated any 
imputation on his valor by promptly dipping 
under, illustrating for my delight what a 
pretty sight it is to see a pigeon bathe; the 
wings outspread, the body immersed, dip- 
ping down at one side, then the other, each 
pretty movement seemingly more attractive 
than the one before. But I was surprised to 
notice that they never dip the head under. 

Presently Mrs. Buster approached the 
basin, fluffing up her head feathers, which, I 
soon learned, is the first indication of a desire 
to take a plunge. She first "teased" the 
water with her beak, the pigeon way of wash- 
ing it, and then tried to edge herself into the 
basin, which was scarcely large enough to al- 
low two to bathe comfortably. I thereupon 
resolved to place a larger basin out, but the 
pleasure I derived from seeing the mates 
crowd in together influenced me in letting 
the smaller basin remain. 



BATHING 37 

During the first bathing episode, Buster 
placed himself in the very center of the bowl, 
appearing hugely content; but finally Mrs. 
Buster edged her slender form into the water^ 
and they reminded me of two little ducks, 
as they sat facing each other. When they 
were thoroughly wet, and had enjoyed the 
bath sufficiently, they emerged from the 
basin, flapping their wings vigorously, scat- 
tering water droj)S here and there, with en- 
tire lack of consideration for their neighbors 
who were resting in the sunshine. 

The two dripping birds were a funny sight, 
and wholly unrecognizable as they seated 
themselves closely together on the outer 
ledge, receiving the full benefit of the sun, 
having left a very dirty basin of water, w^iich 
I promptly changed, before any of the pig- 
eons should quench their thirst. But I very 
soon learned that my pretty pigeons were not 
at all fastidious regarding their drinking* 
water. 

It frequently happens that while one or two 



38 AT MY WINDOW 

are bathing, another, or perhaps several, in- 
sist on taking a drink. Then a very Hvely 
pecking ensues between the bathers and the 
thirsty ones. Consequently I am often kept 
very busy changing the water, being more 
particular than they as regards the purity 
of their drink. 

The Blackies' bathing together amuses me 
very much. And in this, as in other things, 
the pigeon disposition is manifested, no two 
being quite alike. White- Wings always 
seems to expect a great deal of attention 
from her mate, accepting caresses but giving 
few in return. She impresses me as a trifle 
egotistical. Blackie's fluffing up his head 
feathers and washing his beak, the prelimi- 
nary of a bath, is the signal for her to hasten 
into the basin, occupying the very center, low 
down in the water, leaving no room for 
Blackie. On crowding into the basin he 
spreads one wing over her, which seems to 
please her very much; and nothing can be 
seen of her but large black lustrous eyes, 
peering from under Blackie's wing. 



BATHING 39 

The squabs are very fond of bathing, and 
sometimes indulge in what we call a "conso- 
lation bath"; which means when one is re- 
pulsed by the older pigeons, and pushed 
aside during meals after many unsuc- 
cessful attempts to hold his own, he finally 
plunges into the basin, as if to say, "Well, if 
you won't let me eat, at least I may take a 
bath!" It seems a part of pigeon ethics that 
squabs must be kept in subjection by the 
older pigeons. They are usually irrepres- 
sible in taking the most desirable places 
on the Piazza, without regard to their elders ; 
and the latter have a system of "hazing," or 
teaching them manners. The little ones re- 
ceive pecks from every side, usually accept- 
ing them as a matter of course, merely utter- 
ing a protesting little "Squeak, squeak!" 

I am very fond of the squabs, and find 
them particularly interesting. I love to 
note their ancestry, for they are usually sent 
adrift at an early age. The squab will run 
to its parent, flapping its wings, crying 
"Wee- wee!" which is probably the nest-cry 



40 AT MY WINDOW 

for food, raising its little beak for recogni- 
tion. But the parent bird in most cases turns 
coldly away, ignoring the repeated pleadings 
of its offspring. 

At first I was shocked at this, and disap- 
pointed in my pigeons, who had become dear 
to me; but reflecting on pigeon nature and 
pigeon life, as revealed to me by daily ob- 
servation, I came to the conclusion that this 
casting aside of their young was a necessary 
condition of their lives, which seemed to run 
in a circle of mating, nesting, covering the 
eggf rearing the squab for about two weeks, 
and then taking a little vacation together. 
Each duty was performed earnestly and as 
conscientiously as it would have been among 
us humans, in our endeavor to form 
character, and in our aspirations to attain 
the higher life ; in our strivings to make each 
day better and more acceptable than the one 
before, realizing that each temptation con- 
quered strengthens character. 

These little feathered creatures take their 
destinies very seriously. 



CHAPTER X 

BUILDING A NEST 

ABOUT the time Miss Buster and young 
Pointie formed an alliance, the latter 
appeared at the window, one morning, bear- 
ing a sheaf of straw in his beak. Very man- 
ly and gallant he appeared, alighting before 
me as I sat in the mellow sunshine, and east 
his wisp of straw before me. He immedi- 
ately flew away, returning presently and re- 
peating his pretty performance. I thought 
to myself, "I believe this little fellow is pre- 
senting me with a bouquet in appreciation 
of my attention to feeding him." 

It later dawned upon me that perhaps he 
had foolishly selected the Piazza as the site 
for the dove-cote; but I was unable to con- 
strue his motive, as Mrs. Buster, ahghting 

41 



n AT MY WINDOW 

on the window-sill, took possession of a straw 
and flew quickly away, over to her nest. 
When she returned, the other straw had been 
borne away by the summer breeze. 

She seemed restless and disinclined to eat, 
and when I left the window I noticed her 
pulling at the awning cord. When I came 
near her, she left it and flew to another 
window. I was curious to know what scheme 
was in the little feathered head, and going 
into the adjoining room discovered her at 
the window with the awning cord in her tiny 
beak. Espying me, she dropped it, and flew 
back to the Pigeons' Window. After 
watching her for some time, I concluded that 
she wanted the awning cord, but thought I 
would not permit her to have it. In plain 
English, she was trying to steal it. 

As I pretended not to notice her, she took 
the end firmly in her beak and flew off, and 
was much disappointed at her inability to 
proceed. I thereupon cut a piece from the 
end, and placed it on the window-sill. She 



BUILDING A NEST 43 

promptly appropriated it, bearing it over 
to her nest. 

It then became apparent to me that she 
was repairing her old nest or building a new 
one, and I determined to help her. I cut 
several pieces of different lengths from a 
ball of thick twine, placing them on the win- 
dow-sill. She soon returned and, picking up 
one piece after another, finally decided on 
the longest one, which she carried away with 
her. I thus learned that her preference was 
for a half-yard length, and I busied myself 
for an hour cutting the desired lengths for 
her. Taking one end in her beak, she would 
shake it from side to side as if testing it, and 
then quickly fly across with it. She looked 
like a tiny kite with a long tail, as she made 
her journey over the housetops. 

Buster, undoubtedly, was in the nest, re- 
ceiving and arranging the material; for she 
simply took time to deposit it, when she was 
over for more. After a while the industrious 
little housewife became tired ; her little throat 



44 AT MY WINDOW 

throbbing and her beak open as if panting, 
a condition with all the pigeons after flying 
about in very warm weather. She would 
thus sometimes drop the cord when about 
half way over, quickly returning to me for 
another piece. I coaxed her with dainty 
crumbs to rest a while, but she was too intent 
on her work to care for food and drink. 

The next day, I spent several hours as- 
sisting her. I had procured straws and thick 
twine, and we worked together for a long 
time. To make her task easier, I held each 
straw and each piece of twine for her, she 
receiving them gratefully from my hand. 
She worked energetically the greater por- 
tion of two warm days, devoting but a few 
minutes to food and drink. Her mate ex- 
ercised considerable forethought on the sev- 
eral occasions when he came over for his 
meals, always carrying a straw back with 
him. 

From my experience with Mrs. Buster, I 
concluded that the female pigeons gathered 



BUILDING A NEST 45 

the material, the male birds forming the 
nest. But I soon discovered that in some 
cases the male birds collected the straws, etc., 
and in other cases they did so alternately. 

The dear little creatures seemed very ap- 
preciative of my constant efforts to assist 
them. 



CHAPTER XI 



"bandy" 



I SHALL now introduce "Bandy," whom 
I learned to love, although at first I was 
prejudiced against him by reason of his at- 
titude toward my eight pets. His roost was 
about three blocks away, in a liigh tower, and 
I know not what attracted him to my pig- 
eons' Piazza ; but he appeared there one day, 
very self-assertive, and equally unwelcome. 
He seemed well versed in the art of self-de- 
fense, and promptly made his presence felt. 
His appearance was not attractive, as he 
had large, thick rims around his eyes, which 
my maid called "automobile-goggles," and a 
thickness across liis large beak, with the ap- 
pearance of a bandage. Owing to this, I 
called him "Bandage," but later when I 



46 



*'BANDY" 47 

came to know and love him I softened it to 
"Bandy." 

The resentment manifested at his invad- 
ing the Piazza evoked from him much ag- 
gi^essiveness ; and the more I and my pigeons 
endeavored to prevent him, the more persist- 
ent he was in remaining. But two never at- 
tacked him at the same time; such a course 
apparently being contrary to pigeon ethics. 
Even if a female pigeon is being molested, 
the mate does not interfere; but when the 
little combat is over, will, in many cases, 
punish the offender. Also, the female pig- 
eon, if her mate is waging battle with an- 
other, will stand aside, but at the end will 
bestow a malicious peck upon her mate's 
antagonist. 

At the time of Bandy's appearance, I had 
supplemented the daily menu of crumbs 
with delightful pigeon food. How they did 
relish it! and it certainlv did look fascinat- 
ing! — the varied grains all mingled together 
— red, green, tan, little green discs, and fresh 



48 AT MY WINDOW 

yellow corn. When I first procured it, it 
had reminded me of the delight I often ex- 
perienced when a child', on opening a box of 
mixed candy, admiring the assortment. I 
believe my pigeons felt somewhat as I did, 
for they became almost wild with enthusiasm 
to possess my hand, and emulated a foot- 
ball team in their endeavors. Frequently 
now, when I offer them crumbs, they refuse 
them, pecking my fingers for pigeon-food; 
for, like human beings, in this as in many 
other things, they are unwilling to return to 
plain fare after acquiring a taste for luxu- 
ries. And the different pecks reveal their 
little dispositions: some peck roughly, de- 
mandingly; others timidly, with eyes up- 
lifted pleadingly. Others again, the special 
pets, peck gently, but coaxingly, with full 
assurance of a favorable response. 

Bandy evidently appreciated the pigeon 
food, together with the nice fresh water, and 
thought a place on the Piazza well worth 
fighting for. One day when he came there 



''BANDY" 49 

during the absence of the other pigeons, I 
ventured to become acquainted with him, 
calKng him to me. He eyed me askance for 
a moment, so unaccustomed was he to my 
addressing him in a caressing tone, but 
presently advanced with a softening hght 
in his eye. I fed him and talked to him, and 
from that day his whole attitude changed. 
He had previously seemed to think he was 
discriminated against, which aroused his 
pigeon ire. But after the day we became 
friends, his whole demeanor changed, and he 
ceased to attack my pigeons, merely coming 
close to me, waiting to be fed. 

He proved a wonderfully intelligent bird, 
so grave and wise that we called him the sage 
of the Piazza. He very soon introduced 
his mate to our little circle; a small dainty 
bronze pigeon, having, the first time I saw 
her, a string around one little leg, which was 
lame, as if hurt when liberating herself; for 
she had evidentl)^ been a captive. 

Shortly after this, Bandy made it appar- 



50 AT MY WINDOW 

ent that he was interested in nest-building. 
He too began pulling at the awning cord, 
and I promptly supplied him with straws 
and twine. He had no hesitation in receiv- 
ing the material from my hand, to the dissat- 
isfaction of the other pigeons, who resented 
his engaging so much attention. They all 
seemed to fear a peck from Bandy's strong 
beak, and it was amusing to see them peck 
him, immediately after he received a straw 
from me, when his beak was occupied hold- 
ing it. But Bandy never lost his self-pos- 
session by dropping his straw to retaliate; 
but with great dignity and self-control ig- 
nored the attack, swiftly making his home- 
ward journey; with, however, a significant 
gleam in his eye which might be construed, 
"I'll see you later!" 

After a while Bandy came to the Piazza 
at one part of the day, his mate another, 
thus disclosing the fact that an egg was 
being protected. But to my consternation. 
Bandy came over one afternoon with a beau- 



''BANDY" 51 

tiful little round white egg adhering to his 
breast feathers. It evidently was an un- 
happy accident, occurring through his leav- 
ing the nest hastily. He seemed unaware of 
the situation, though apparently very uncom- 
fortable and restless, remaining but a few 
moments, the egg still adhering to the feath- 
ers as he flew to his nest. I earnestly hoped 
he would reach there without damage to the 
egg, but realized such was not the happy 
sequel, when the following morning the 
mates appeared together. 

Some months later, however, they were 
more successful with their egg; for one day, 
when I was feeding a tiny brown stranger. 
Bandy and some others alighted on the 
Piazza, and the little one, joyously flapping 
her wings, hastened to Bandy with upraised 
beak, chirping: "Wee-wee-wee!" Bandy 
took the little beak in his for an instant, 
signifying a caress, which evidently satisfied 
"Weeny," who returned to her crumbs. 



CHAPTER XII 

MOULTING — TEACHING THEM NOT TO FIGHT 

MARY, my kind-hearted chamber- 
maid, was often amazed at the per- 
fect understanding existing between me and 
my pigeons; and to justify my devotion to 
them I said to her, "The reason I am so fond 
of the pigeons, INIary, is on account of their 
affection for each other; the mates are very 
faithful and devoted." 

Mary threw up her hands in astonishment, 
exclaiming, "Oh, ma'am! do they know each 
other? I didn't think birds knew each 
other!" 

She promised to take good care of them 
during my summer sojourn in the country. 
I returned to find my pigeons beginning 
their autumn moulting ; and very curious and 
unlovely they appeared. Some of them were 

52 



MOULTING 53 

scarcely recognizable, their poor little heads 
and throats almost bare. They also seem 
quite ill during moulting-time, and are de- 
void of their accustomed vivacity. 

There was a pretty little scene enacted one 
morning by Mrs. Buster, who had been the 
first to moult, and now had recovered her 
feathers, looking more beautiful and glossy 
than heretofore. Buster, at this time, was 
quite ill, looking the skeleton of himself, and 
this morning was anxious for a bath. He 
placed himself in the basin, but was much 
annoyed by the other pigeons striving to dis- 
place liim and pecking him from every side. 
Buster seemed to lack sufficient energy to 
defend himself; but a pair of little red eyes 
flashed indignantly as Mrs. Buster mounted 
the side of the basin, to protect her beloved 
mate from his tormentors, which she did most 
successfully, flapping her wings from side to 
side, pecking every head within reach. The 
little creature fought so valiantly that she 
soon had driven them all away. Then she 



54 AT MY WINDOW 

turned her attention to Buster, gently peck- 
ing him all over, as if massaging him, to his 
evident comfort and enjoyment. 

After the autumn moulting, the pigeons 
assumed a beautiful appearance in their new 
and glossy coats of feathers, and regained 
their accustomed vigor, renewing their pugil- 
istic encounters. 

When they and I had been friends but a 
short time, I had ventured to instruct them 
that they must not fight, and was in a meas- 
ure successful. But it evoked other quali- 
ties which I disliked even more than fighting. 
They became deceitful or sullen, according 
to their respective natures. 

My method was to clap my hands over 
their heads, and, if necessary, gently sepa- 
rate them. Then I would admonish the ag- 
gressive pigeon — the one w^ho made the at- 
tack — and call the other to me and feed him. 
They understood every tone of voice, and 
knew when they were in disfavor, or when 
encouraged. They soon had a perfect un- 



MOULTING 55 

derstanding that I disapproved of fighting, 
and that the penalty was my displeasure. 
This occurred at the time when I had only 
my eight pigeons. Since then I have under- 
taken the welfare of their children, and their 
children's children, till the numbers have be- 
come embarrassing. 

However, my eight pigeons soon learned 
that the one who molested his neighbor was 
in disgrace ; but that fact caused them mere- 
ly to conceal their naughty tempers, not to 
curb them. In my presence, they would eat 
in apparent harmon}, after which they 
would meet each other at the side of the 
window, showing their animosity when I 
could only see them by leaning out. 

Buster, particularly, became sullen and ill- 
tempered. If he was on the Piazza first, and 
one of the others appeared, instead of pir- 
ouetting and "scolding," as formerly, he 
would leave his crumbs, walk to the end of 
the window-sill and sit down, eying the new- 
comer with displeasure. He would sit there 



56 AT MY WINDOW 

patiently and sullenly until the other bird 
flew away, when he quickly pursued him and 
vented his feelings. 

Congratulating myself that I had taught 
my pigeons not to fight, I was told that I 
was making them unhappy, as that was 
part of their lives. And realizing that can- 
did fighting was more honorable, or at least 
less to be blamed than duplicity and deceit, 
I very soon desisted in my efforts to improve 
my pigeons. And now, I am sorr}^ to say, I 
witness daily the pulling of feathers, and 
often remove small ones from little beaks, 
lest they be swallowed. 

And I spend considerable time guarding 
the weaker ones; for my pigeons have no 
sense of fair play or justice. I regret to say 
that with them possession is law, might is 
right, the result being the supremacy of the 
strongest. 



CHAPTER XIII 

"buster" leaves his baby in my care 

1LO VE this pathetic httle episode, though 
it saddens me, and I wish I could de- 
scribe it as it really occurred. 

Buster came over one afternoon, during 
the second winter of my friendship with the 
pigeons, accompanied by a tiny squab not 
much larger than a fat sparrow. I did not 
witness the approach, and cannot imagine 
how so small and young a pigeon could fly 
the distance from the Buster roost to the 
Piazza. But it had been accomplished, for 
there they were, happy together. Buster 
was teaching the little one to eat crumbs, 
pecking him if he attempted to swallow a 
large one, the baby crying "Wee-wee!" 
when admonished by its parent. 

After a while, several hungry pigeons 

57 



58 AT MY WINDOW 

came, pushing and crowding each other in 
their eagerness. Little "Bi-Bi," as I named 
him, was on the edge of the window-sill, and 
in the crowding of the pigeons was pushed 
off, and disappeared. 

Buster, trembling from head to foot, flew 
downward, presently appearing on the roof 
of the house opposite, peering intently 
across. He then flew down a story, still peer- 
ing across a little lower; and then up to my 
window, still trembling. He gazed into the 
sitting room in every nook and corner, from 
floor to ceiling. 

"He is not here. Buster," I told him, and 
as if he understood me, he hastily flew away, 
over to his roost, but instantly returned, 
again peering into the room, and then away 
again. 

The afternoon was waning, the sun had 
set, the pigeons had all gone to roost. Bus- 
ter had been searching for almost an hour, 
when, to my great relief, just before dark, 
he and Bi-Bi appeared on the Piazza, the 



''BUSTER" LEAVES HIS BABY 59 

little one apparently uninjured. They ate 
together for a moment, and then, by some 
understanding between them, they walked 
to a little nook at the side of the window, 
and Bi-Bi snuggled down. Buster stood 
over him, tenderly pecking him from head 
to foot, until Bi-Bi, closing his eyes, con- 
tent edlj^ fell asleep. Then Buster made a 
hasty flight over to his nest. 

Early the next morning, I went to look 
for Bi-Bi. The morning was very cold, and 
as I entered the sitting-room, I discovered 
Buster and Bi-Bi cuddled close together in a 
sheltered corner of the Piazza. Buster had 
evidently come over to look after him, and 
had taken him to the Piazza expecting that 
I would presently come to distribute crumbs. 
I spread a repast for them, and as soon as 
Bi-Bi became interested in the tiny crumbs 
in my hand, Buster flew over to his roost 
heedless of the plaintive "Wee-wee-wee!" of 
the abandoned squab. 

We wondered what was Buster's scheme 



60 AT MY WINDOW 

in leaving his little pigeon at our window 
and concluded that his nest was probably 
crowded by having two squabs, as frequent- 
ly happens. He must have thought it all 
out, coming to the conclusion that his little 
one would be perfectly safe in my care, 
would be well fed and tenderly treated. 

However, for three days he repeated his 
parental performance of remaining with 
Bi-Bi until dusk, and when all the pigeons 
had flown homeward for the night, he and 
Bi-Bi would take their little walk of about 
two feet to the nook, just at the side of the 
window, and Buster would "massage" the 
little feathers, and then hasten to liis nest. 

The snow fell heavily one afternoon, 
drifting into Bi-Bi 's roost, and I encouraged 
him to spend the time near me, keej^ing the 
window open that I might protect him from 
the older pigeons, who objected to his receiv- 
ing too much attention. Buster came over 
before sunset, remaining with Bi-Bi until 
the others departed; then, by some mysteri- 
ous understanding, or pre-arrangement, 



"BUSTER" LEAVES HIS BABY 61 

Buster pecked Bi-Bi, who was falling asleep, 
and the two flew over to the Buster roost. 
The next morning they returned together, 
and I received Bi-Bi in one hand, feeding 
him from the other; and Buster, apparent- 
ly satisfied, hastened back to the nest. 

After that, Buster seemed to think his 
little one able to care for himself, paying no 
further attention to him, except for occa- 
sionally pecking him when he remained too 
long eating from my hand. I did not, un- 
fortunately, comprehend, until later, that 
Buster understood better than I the eating 
capacity of a young squab. Having no- 
ticed that the older birds never ate too much, 
I supposed the same appHed to a squab, and 
learned, too late, that I had over-fed little 
Bi-Bi. 

I was wont to sit at the window, the crumb- 
box beside me, and a smaller one, containing 
pigeon food, in my lap, dispensing to the 
little eager upraised beaks. But Bi-Bi had 
a fashion of jumping on my lap, and into 
the box, where I would permit him to feast 



62 AT MY WINDOW 

undisturbed. One day after this feasting, he 
sought the basin for a drink, thereby causing 
an indigestion from which he never re- 
covered. 

Previous to this, every evening at sunset 
he would seek his Uttle roost at the window- 
side, and before closing the window for the 
night, we would look out and speak to him 
— the poor, lonely little fellow, and say, 
"Good-night, Bi-Bi!" 

He would open his little eyes, blink his 
response, and then go off to sleep, as we 
closed the window noiselessly. 

But when he became ill, he seemed chilly 
all the time, constantly shivering; and in- 
stead of flying off for exercise, would come 
into the room for a while, as if for warmth, 
but would seek his roost at sunset. 

One very cold night I left the window 
partially open from the bottom, in case he 
should wish to come in; hardly expecting, 
however, that he would accept the implied 
invitation; for I had always understood that 
birds never left the roost until daylight. 



"BUSTER" LEAVES HIS BABY 63 

But contrary to my supposition, in the 
blackness of the night little Bi-Bi made his 
way to the window, and into the darkened 
room; for on turning on an electric light, 
I discovered the pathetic little figure on the 
floor, just inside the window. I turned the 
heat on, and spoke endearingly to him, be- 
fore leaving the room. 

In the morning I found he had walked to 
the radiator, grateful for the warmth, but 
was evidently suffering from acute indiges- 
tion, his little breast heaving as he gasped 
for breath. I took him into my hand, and 
the poor little sufferer presently vomited two 
tiny pieces of corn I had fed him the previ- 
ous afternoon. 

He seemed so ill and cold that I arranged 
a little nest for him on a tabouret near the 
window; but on account of the pigeons' dis- 
turbing him, or for some little reason of his 
own, he preferred to remain on the floor; and 
I made him as comfortable as possible, dur- 
ing the short s]3an of his little life. 



CHAPTER XIV 

A CARRIER-PIGEON AND SOME OTHERS 

TO my mind there is always something 
poetical about a carrier-pigeon, but the 
beautiful one that came to our window one 
cold, raw day at the close of winter was very 
material, being hungry, thirsty, and cold. 
We treated him with marked hospitality, but, 
as he was not tame like our own pigeons, we 
were unable to decipher the number on the 
silver band around his leg. Later, when he 
became quite tame, and chose a mate at the 
Piazza, the band had become so tarnished 
that the legend was obliterated. 

In the early spring our little home experi- 
enced a critical illness and long convales- 
cence; the latter affording ample opportu- 

64 



A CARRIER-PIGEON 65 

nity for the interesting study of pigeon 
nature. 

An attractive generation appeared about 
this time, and although we learned nothing 
new about pigeon ethics, nothing we had not 
already gleaned, we were nevertheless much 
entertained by the bevy of youngsters, who, 
seeing their parents tame, became even more 
so themselves. 

Bandy's squab, Weeny, developed into a 
most lovable little pigeon, as tame as a pet 
kitten. She delighted in perching on my 
shoulder wliile I sat at the window feeding 
the pigeons, and when, turning my head to 
speak to her, I would ask, ''Do I love my 
little Weeny?" she would stretch her neck, 
placing her tiny beak close to my lips. She 
was a confiding little creature, loving to be 
petted, utterly without fear or distrust of 
Doctor or me, but allowing no one else to 
touch her. 

Then there was "Pugie," named after his 
parent "Pugihst," who was much addicted to 



66 AT MY WINDOW 

fighting, and had thus received the unlovely 
name. He was not handsome, our little 
Pugie, but possessed something much more 
estimable, in an affectionate, devoted nature, 
which completely won our hearts. He had 
been sent forth from the parent nest at an 
early age, and it was pathetic to see the little 
fellow pursue his mother up and down the 
Piazza, flapping his wings, raising his little 
beak to hers, pleading for recognition. She 
invariably turned aside from him, ignoring 
his plaintive little "Wee-wee!" and as he was 
persistent, she usually left the Piazza. 

This little performance was kept up for 
several days, till gradually little Pugie was 
content with the pettings we lavished upon 
him; whereupon he transferred his affection 
to us, joyously fluttering from the Piazza to 
our shoulders, as we entered the sitting-room. 
But, like all the pigeons, he was wonderfully 
discerning in never mistaking any other per- 
son for Doctor or me. Any one else ap- 
proaching the window, or proffering grain^ 



A CARRIER-PIGEON 67 

was invariably the signal for their hasty 
flight. 

"Doodle," a beautiful squab resembling 
a Chanteeler, was vivacity personified. He 
also begged for recognition from his parent, 
and receiving none, likewise lavished his 
demonstrations upon us. As with Pugie, 
Doctor was his especial attraction, and he 
would flutter into the room in a thrill of ex- 
citement, over to the morris chair, alighting 
on Doctor's shoulder, coaxing to be petted 
and fed. 

Each morning my maid had Doctor's easy 
chair and reading table arranged near the 
window, with a large fresh sheet of crash 
covering the carpet, and a white cover over 
the table ; and here, for a time each day, the 
pigeons were allowed to enter into what I 
called "the Pigeons' Playground." So ap- 
preciative were they of the privilege, seem- 
ingly so supremely happy, that we later 
called it "the Pigeons' Paradise." 

Doodle and Pugie were very jealous of 



68 AT MY WINDOW 

each other, and had many encounters around 
the form in the large chair. Pugie, who was 
larger and stronger, resented Doodle's re- 
maining on Doctor's shoulder or hand, and 
would pursue him from place to place. 
Doodle often seeking refuge on Doctor's 
head. 

One morning, the impetuous little fellow 
flew into the room, alighting on a cabinet, 
and in much surprise surveyed his handsome 
reflection in the mirror; not, however, to his 
satisfaction. Mistaking his reflection for an- 
other pigeon, he immediately manifested his 
disapproval by pirouetting from foot to foot, 
uttering the little guttural sound which we 
called "scolding." Nearer and nearer he ap- 
proached his beautiful little reflection, grow- 
ing more fluffed up and angry each moment 
at what he evidently considered the impu- 
dence of this intruder. When quite close to 
his reflection, he directed an angry peck, and 
striking the mirror appeared convinced of 
his folly, and, seemingly much embarrassed, 
he made a hasty exit. 



A CARRIER-PIGEON 69 

One beautiful spring afternoon, I re- 
turned home to find, as usual, the little "Ren- 
dezvous Club," as we called them, assembled 
on the Piazza, sunning themselves. Out of 
consideration for a new costume, I crossed 
the hall noiselessly, fearing an enthusiastic 
reception when they should see me. I held 
the portiere aside to gaze on the scene so dear 
to me; but even so slight a movement was 
detected by the little ears, ever on the alert 
for my approach. 

Doodle espied me and flew in on the near- 
est chair, expectant, yet half frightened lest 
it should be some one other than the one for 
whom they were all waiting. I wished to 
keep him aloof, yet was unwilling to frighten 
him too much, so merely uttered a deep 
sound of ^'Boo! booT 

But I was unable to deceive the little ras- 
cal, who instantly flew across the room, 
alighting on my shoulder, peeping into my 
face with actual laughter in his beautiful 
bright eyes, and a little peck at my cheek, as 
if to say: 



70 AT MY WINDOW 

"I know you ! You can't fool me !" 
His impetuosity often got him into 
trouble; once, with a very pathetic result. 
He followed me, one day, into the bed-room, 
fluttering around my shoulders, uttering 
the little sound of gladness peculiar to 
himself which we compared to the purring of 
a kitten. The unfamiliar surroundings, how- 
ever, disconcerted him, and, a sudden outside 
noise occurring at the moment, he attempted 
a hasty flight through the window. The 
shade being partially lowered, his wings be- 
came entangled in the cord, and the more he 
struggled, the worse the situation became. 
I hastened to him, striving to liberate him, 
but his excitement and frightened resistance 
made the task almost impossible. I held him 
to me with one hand, endeavoring with the 
other to disentangle the cord, speaking sooth- 
ingly to him; and presently he ceased resist- 
ing, and I praised him for his docility. In a 
moment I had unraveled the cord, and he 
was free to go. But to my consternation he 



A CARRIER-PIGEON 71 

lay limp and motionless in my hands. He 
remained thus for several minutes, and, with 
a feeling of horror, I called my maid, telling 
her I feared little Doodle had died of fright. 
Presently, to my great relief, I felt a slight 
pulsation through his tiny frame, and I bore 
him to the sitting-room, to the Piazza where 
the other pigeons were, and, opening liis eyes 
to the familiar scene, he fluttered out. He 
looked bewildered, as he stood there, panting, 
moving his wings to adjust his ruffled feath- 
ers; and then, without even taking a drink, 
he flew swiftly to his nest. 

It was my first experience, and I trust it 
will be my last, of a little pigeon swooning 
in my hands. 

I have since, however, had the more pain- 
ful experience of a little pigeon dying in my 
hands. And as the little life was ebbing, he 
met my gaze as I held him to me, speaking 
endearingly to him; and presently closed his 
tired eyes, appeared lapsing into sleep, and 
pleasant dreams. The little wings extended 



72 AT MY WINDOW 

as if in expectation of flight, the tail expand- 
ed, the tiny form fluttered, and my httle 
pigeon had passed away. 

Then there was "Happy," a most interest- 
ing squab, whose sole desire was to please. 
She, also, was a great favorite with Doctor, 
and it was amusing to see the three jealous 
little rivals endeavoring to drive one another 
from the vicinity of the morris chair. 

Happy had a very entertaining little 
"stunt" which we called "playing ball with 
Happy." It was I who originated it, to 
Happy's evident delight and quick under- 
standing of her part in the performance. 

Doctor, seated in the morris chair with 
pigeon food beside him, placing a few grains 
in his hand, would call Happy to him; I, sit- 
ting at a distance, also with pigeon food, 
would call, "Come, Happy!" and thus back 
and forth she would travel, her whole heart, 
apparently, in the little game. 

She seemed wilHng to play indefinitely, 



A CARRIER-PIGEON 73 

and appeared disappointed when we would 
discontinue, in consideration of her little 
physique, fearing to tire her, and also, over- 
feed her. 

But it seemed her great desire to give 
pleasure to Doctor; and if I was in another 
part of the room, or otherwise occupied, she 
nevertheless wished to entertain. After eat- 
ing a few grains from Doctor's hand, she 
would fly to the back of a chair, perch there 
an instant, and then return to Doctor. She 
seemed to think the little performance was 
expected of her, and repeated it again and 
again. 

She and Pugie adjusted their little rivalry 
for Doctor's affection by happily mating; 
and it afforded me much pleasure to fur- 
nish material for their new home, and assist 
the little bride in the transportation. 



CHAPTER XV 



"jack and jill" — "the burglar" 



AVERY pretty phase of pigeon life pre- 
sented itself about this time, in the ap- 
pearance of little twin squabs, "Jack and 
Jill," who were left at our window. Their 
parents had evidently instructed them that 
the corner of the sill was to be their future 
roost ; and when, at sunset, the other pigeons 
had sought their respective sleeping quarters. 
Jack and Jill nestled together. Before set- 
tling to sleep, however, they "massaged" 
each other, as the parent bird does its young, 
and the mates, each other. In the morning 
the tender little performance was repeated, 
and, subsequently, each evening before re- 
pose, and each morning on awakening. 

They were an affectionate pair of squabs, 
truly devoted to each other, though their 

74 



"JACK AND JILL" 75 

little beaks had ready pecks for other pig- 
eons. 

A threatening storm darkened the sunset 
hour, one day, and all the pigeons hastened 
home. The poor little twins had never seen 
a storm, and appeared much frightened when 
the wind arose. It was a mere storm of 
springtime, but I closed the window, as the 
gale was strong. Being shut out fairly terri- 
fied Jack and Jill, who besieged the window 
pane with their beaks, crying: "Wee-wee- 
wee!" 

Their appeal was so pathetic that I raised 
the window, and two grateful little pigeons 
flew in, seeking refuge on the radiator, 
where they nestled down, gazing contentedly 
around the room. 

When the storm had abated, I gently re- 
moved them to their usual sleeping-place, but 
they were unwilling to remain outside, and 
kept flying in, as I repeated the removal, 
again and again. Although it was contrary 
to my sense of propriety to harbor hale and 



76 AT MY WINDOW 

hardy pigeons, I did not have the heart to 
insist, a persuasive voice from within inter- 
ceding for them — a voice that is always 
raised in behalf of God's mute creatures — 
and I made a little bed on the radiator, 
near the window, where they slept contented- 
ly, after the customary "massage." 

And what precious little darlings they be- 
came, in their devotion to Doctor! They 
were jealous of other pigeons but not of each 
other. Every day after he had fed them, 
they would perch one on each shoulder, and 
shower pigeon caresses upon him: gentle lit- 
tle pecks around the neck, ears, and cheeks, 
and about the eyes, sometimes perilously 
close. Also, after receiving corn from his 
hands, they would go through a little process 
of "manicuring," in a dainty fashion peculiar 
to themselves. Sometimes they would perch 
on his knees and play with the tassels of his 
robe, or alight on his slippered feet, and do 
a little criss-crossing, another mark of their 
affection. Or, if he were intent on book or 



"JACK AND JILL" 77 

newspaper, they would take up a position on 
the floor, close to him, in a pretty posture 
that I called "saying their prayers." 

Little "Squabsy," whose parents were un- 
known to us, came at a tender age, when she 
was very feeble. My heart went out to the 
little creature the moment I heard her plain- 
tive "Wee-wee!" in protest at the rude treat- 
ment accorded her by her elders. I coaxed 
her into my hand, the soft, tiny mite, and she 
felt like a piece of moss, without substance. 
Once accustomed to my hand, she had no 
desire to leave it, and for a few days I spent 
much time caring for her and feeding her 
judiciously. She appeared to be suffering 
from some throat trouble — pigeons, I am 
told, are subject to diphtheria — and swal- 
lowed with difficulty. I selected the tiniest 
grains of pigeon food, which she appeared to 
relish, and in less than a week she was much 
improved, developing into a bright, happy 
little pigeon. She soon became quite capable 
of caring for herself, even to the extent of 



78 AT MY WINDOW 

searching around the room for the box con- 
taining pigeon food; and if she found the 
cover on it, she immediately attempted open- 
ing it with her tiny beak. And it was one of 
our numerous pigeon jokes to refer to this 
tender httle creature, with soft, appealing 
eyes, as ''the burglar T 



CHAPTER XVI 

SHOT IN THE CORN FIELD 

THIS little tragedy, with its happy ter- 
mination, relates entirely to "Tem- 
per," who would not figure in these pages but 
for his thrilling experience one fatal day. 

He was a handsome pigeon, very light 
gray and white in color, with wonderfully ex- 
pressive eyes. He had been coming to the 
window for some time before we became 
friends, on account of his unlovely disposi- 
tion. He seldom ate at the Piazza, usually 
coming for a drink after a flight across the 
Hudson, to the Jersey fields. But when with 
us, he was aggressive toward my pigeons, 
and surly and indifferent to my overtures to 
gain his confidence. 

But one day he returned from Jersey in 
a pitiable condition, desperately wounded 

79 



80 AT MY WINDOW 

whilst rifling corn. His breast was moist 
with crimson blood ; his crop, filled with fresh 
ripe grain, protruded where the shot had en- 
tered. His feet could scarce sustain him, and 
such pathetic eyes I have never seen : the ex- 
pression was almost an uttered cry of pain 
and desolation, as he sought a drink at the 
pigeons' basin. 

He quenched his thirst in gasping sips, and 
during his efforts I counted over a dozen 
pieces of fresh, yellow corn in his distended 
crop. I knelt beside him, speaking sooth- 
ingly, making it plain to him that I wished 
to help him. He clearly understood me, and 
met my gaze with a piteous, pleading look, 
of mingled gratitude and appeal, before fly- 
ing to his roost, which was, fortunately, but a 
short distance away. 

Later in the day, he returned for another 
sip of water, and I protected him from the 
rudeness of the pigeons who pushed him 
aside from the basin. Some irrepressible 
squabs even attempted to take the corn from 



SHOT IN THE CORNFIELD 81 

his crop, which was plainly visible through 
the skin. This deeply angered Temper, but 
he was too ill to defend himself. With mar- 
velous intelligence he comprehended that I 
was befriending him, and stood close to my 
hand as I moved aside the other pigeons, 
even my special j)ets, in my efforts to feed 
him. He appeared hungry, but swallowed 
with difficulty, and I fed him grain by grain, 
with the smallest pieces. He wished to drink, 
and I held my hands around him, that the 
others might not disturb him. He gave me a 
look of tender gratitude from liis sad, ex- 
pressive eyes, and slowly flew away. 

The next morning I awakened at day- 
break, and my first thought was of Temper. 
I went to the sitting-room and was scarcely 
surprised to find him at the window, alone, 
it being yet too early for the coming of the 
pigeons. 

I sat beside the window and he came close 
to me, the same beautiful light in his eyes 
that I had seen the day before. I fed him 



82 AT MY WINDOW 

grain by grain until his hunger seemed ap- 
peased, and he took his httle sip of water. 
He then stood close to me, looking into my 
eyes, as I talked to him. Presently the other 
pigeons came and Temper flew away. 

Each morning about day-break we kept 
our little tryst. Sometimes I was there first, 
but had not long to wait for Temper. At 
other times he was standing expectant, gaz- 
ing wistfully in, and as I approached the 
window would draw near to me. I talked 
caressingly whilst I fed him, and he respond- 
ed with his wistful eyes ; and invariably when 
the other pigeons came would fly away. 

He would return, however, later in the 
day, for another meal, but with less happy 
results, the other pigeons resenting the at- 
tention he received. He understood through- 
out that I was befriending him, remaining 
close to my hands, relying confidently on me 
for protection. 

And thus I cared for him, from day to 
day, insuring him the nourishment he needed. 



SHOT IN THE CORNFIELD 83 

and giving him the sympathy he seemed so 
much to appreciate. At first we feared it 
was a hopeless case, even a surgeon and a 
physician, who were interested in my pro- 
t^g^, giving me little encouragement; and I 
resolved at least to nourish and cheer him to 
the end. 

But Nature proved a most tender mother 
and the wound in his breast began healing. 

We wondered if on restoration to health 
he would resume his churlish manner — or 
could we expect a little pigeon to remember 
kindness and be grateful ? I felt it mattered 
not, my sole desire being to relieve his suf- 
fering and keep him nourished. 

His recovery seemed almost miraculous, 
so terrible had been the injury; but Mother 
Nature took excellent care of the case, and 
the gaping wound healed in a manner one 
would have expected only from expert treat- 
ment. 

Temper was soon himself again, able to 
hold his own on the Piazza, and frequently 



84 AT MY WINDOW 

was the aggressor, as of yore. But toward 
me his attitude continued gentle and con- 
fiding. Seemingly he was not quite happy 
unless close to me, though no longer need- 
ing my protection. 

I had given them all an early breakfast 
one morning, and returned to my dressing- 
room, when presently I was startled to find 
this beautiful gray pigeon at my feet. He 
looked up at me, gazing patiently until I was 
ready to return to the sitting-room, and then 
followed me. 

This action was repeated for several morn- 
ings. He was not hungry; I had fed him 
well ; he simply wished to be near me. And 
the curious feature was his not flying after 
me: when I would turn from the Pigeons' 
Window, he would simply alight on the floor 
and walk beside me. Then he would re- 
main near the dresser, at my feet, until I was 
ready to return, when he would quietly walk 
after me. His action seemed so peculiar, so 
unlike a bird, that I called him "my httle 
gray doggie." 



SHOT IN THE CORNFIELD 85 

And thus we became devoted friends, he 
growing stronger each day, and more at- 
tached ; and I had every reason to feel proud 
of the result of my efforts in his behalf, for 
I was told that without proper sustenance he 
must have perished. 

He would look into my eyes as I talked to 
him, and almost answer me; and I soon 
learned to love "my little gray doggie." 



CHAPTER XVII 

SOME PIGEON FEATS AND ANTICS 

A NUMBER of years ago, when I made 
my first visit to St. Augustine, I was 
very much amused, on the arrival of the train, 
by witnessing a performance by several 
small, bare-footed negroes on the platform. 
To attract attention, admiration, and appro- 
bation, and incidentally a few coins, they ex- 
ecuted the little acrobatic feat of standing on 
their heads and turning somersaults. 

Some of my pigeons perform a little 
"stunt" which recalls the St. Augustine in- 
cident, "Carrier" being the originator. 

Sitting one day near the window, absorbed 
in one of the exquisite sonnets of John Kend- 
rick Bangs, I was interrupted by Carrier's 
striving to attract my attention. I can best 
describe his performance as a half-circle or 

86 



PIGEON FEATS AND ANTICS ST 

bow, which he made by jumping up about 
two feet, landing at a short distance from 
the starting point. (When he wishes to be 
very impressive, he makes the ascent higher, 
and the distance greater, sometimes inad- 
vertently landing on a pigeon's back.) 

"That was beautiful, Carrier!" I assured 
hmi, whereupon I was treated to an encore. 
I then repaid him with a fine, large grain of 
corn. The performance was repeated, he 
was again commended, receiving another 
piece of corn. 

The other pigeons looked on in wonder 
and admiration, mingled, I fear, with envy 
at seeing Carrier the recipient of the favorite 
grain; whereupon Buster attempted the feat, 
very clumsily, but was, of course, rewarded 
for his eif ort. 

Then two or three others ventured to per- 
form, with laughable results, receiving sharp 
pecks from Carrier for interfering with his 
"show"; Carrier evidently not appreciating 
the fact that imitation is the most sincere 



88 AT MY WINDOW 

flattery. However, he was much gratified 
with the success of his performance, which 
subsequently was his greeting to me each 
morning, as I entered the sitting-room. His 
imitators were always quick to follow suit; 
and from thenceforth, although neglecting 
none of the pigeons, I always reserved a 
saucer of corn for the "talent." 

"Winton," a particularly intelligent bird, 
who was an unsuccessful imitator of Car- 
rier, entertained us one day with a little per- 
formance all his own. The pigeons have a 
little note of disapproval, "Ough! Ough!" 
when sometliing displeases them. If, for ex- 
ample, some one approaches when Doctor 
and I are entertaining them with corn and 
caresses, they resent the interruption, and 
voice their displeasure with their little sound 
of protest. And as I was sitting at the win- 
dow one morning, dispensing dainties, my 
maid entered the room to hand me letters. I 
turned to speak to Mattie, who was stand- 
ing near a table, whereupon Winton uttered 



PIGEON FEATS AND ANTICS 89 

his protesting ''Ough! Oughi" No notice 
being taken of liim, he flew into the room, 
ahghting on the table, pirouetting in front 
of Mattie, uttering the guttural sound em- 
ployed by the pigeons to each other, which 
we call scolding. Our laughter seemed to 
disconcert him and he flew back to the win- 
dow. 

They are all quite familiar with the box 
containing the pigeon food, and crane their 
necks expectantly when my hand approaches 
it. One or another will sometimes fly in 
and stand upon it, as if to assert possession. 
Others have a habit of criss-crossing the 
cover, as they do to our hands when coaxing 
to be fed. 

But it remained for Happy to perform 
the clever feat of removing the lid, wliich 
she accomplished with much dexterity. It 
was interesting to watch her — she was such a 
serene little pigeon — engaging in her task 
with calm deliberation. When she first es- 
sayed it, she began by taking a careful sur- 



90 AT MY WINDOW 

vey of the box on the table. Walking around 
it, she proceeded in a most methodical man- 
ner to unravel the mystery of disclosing its 
contents. The box had a sliding cover, with 
a finger notch for opening it; but Happy 
directed her efforts to the side, inserting her 
little beak, striving to pry it open. Unsuc- 
cessful at one side, she attempted the other, 
whereupon Doctor placed the tip of his finger 
on the notch, which instantly enlightened 
Happy, who at once inserted her beak and 
drew the lid forward. To reward her in- 
genuity, we permitted her to partake as lib- 
erally as we deemed advisable. After that, 
she never made a mistake in removing the 
cover; but on one occasion it did not yield 
readily to her efforts, and when she finally 
succeeded, she manifested a delicious little 
bit of temper by pecking it viciously before 
partaking of the grain. 

One of the most pleasing of my pigeon in- 
cidents, which also demonstrates their acute 
hearing, was Buster's responding to my call. 



PIGEON FEATS AND ANTICS 91 

The bright spring day had ended, the sun 
was sinking in a globe of crimson beauty, as 
I closed the Pigeons' Window for the even- 
ing. Simultaneously, Buster alighted at the 
side, but, seeing the window down, instantly 
took his departure, as I hastily opened it. 

"Buster!" I called, and although he was 
across the street, over the housetops, he im- 
mediately circled around, and in an instant 
was beside me. I then observed his beak 
was covered with food substance. He had 
evidently been feeding his squab; and I 
spread another meal for him. How hungry 
he was! although just before sunset he had 
been eating heartily with the other pigeons. 
I was delighted that I had espied him w^hen 
he came at the eleventh hour, otherwise dear 
old Buster would have gone to bed hungry. 



CHAPTER XVIII 



"kissie corn" and music 



THEY all take very naturally to what 
I call "Kissie Corn," regarding it as 
a mark of special favor. It consists in Doc- 
tor's placing a grain of corn between his 
lips, offering it in this fashion to an expec- 
tant beak. They all vie with each other in 
being the favored one, crowding on Doctor's 
shoulders, which, being broad, accommodate 
several at a time; and, from this happy point 
of vantage, they endeavor to reach the covet- 
ed dainty. I must admit there is much dis- 
courtesy, and a decided lack of chivalry, 
among the com23etitors, but the little beaks, 
raised so eagerly, make a pretty picture. I 
like the little performance for hygienic rea- 
sons, also; for we are sometimes prone, I 
fear, to overfeed them. Feeding several hun- 

92 



**KISSIE CORN" 93 

gry applicants, who are neither polite, nor 
considerate of one another, from a well-filled 
hand, is apt to engender hasty swallowing, 
and consequent indigestion. But the "Kissie 
Corn" is given piece by piece, and turn 
about, as Doctor strives to be impartial. And 
in between the courses, they are encouraged 
to sing; for we have some vocalists in our 
midst. The music is not altogether melodi- 
ous, being a little monotonous chant or 
dirge; but some make it more tuneful than 
others. What surprises us is the fact that 
the females never sing; it is the male birds, 
alone, and only a few of them. 

Doctor will sometimes hold a pigeon on 
his hand, dancing him up and down, singing 
an accompaniment, and the pigeon will re- 
spond with his own little song. His dance, 
however, is usually of short duration, some 
jealous rival hastening to displace him. 

And thus their lives go on from day to 
day, with little variation; affording pleasant 
diversion to us, and supreme happiness, I 



94 AT MY WINDOW 

think, to them. We love them for the affec- 
tion and devotion they display toward us, 
in gratitude for our attention. And we ap- 
preciate their wonderful sagacity and dis- 
crimination in not making friends easily. 
Even toward Mattie they manifest, with 
few exceptions, much aloofness. But that 
is pardonable, for although she is a genuine 
friend, keeping their Piazza and Play- 
ground scrupulously neat and clean, they re- 
sent the appearance of brush and dust-pan. 
Consequently Mattie receives many "scold- 
ings" from them, when the hour for "play- 
time" is ended. 

There was, however, one little pigeon 
whom I called "Mattie's squab," who appre- 
ciated her having rescued liim from the bath- 
tub, one day when I was out. The enter- 
prising httle fellow wandered from Piazza 
to the sitting-room, through the bed-room, 
when Mattie was in another part of the suite, 
and evidently lost himself. Crossing the 
hall, Mattie was attracted by the fluttering 



''KISSIE CORN" 96 

of wings, and following the sound, discov- 
ered the poor little frightened pigeon at the 
bottom of the empty bath-tub. Being very 
young, he was too inexperienced to accom- 
plish an upward flight, and was rescued with 
much difficulty, not having sufficient confi- 
dence in Mattie to trust himself to her hands ; 
she being, I think, almost as frightened as he. 
However, from that day he was "Mattie's 
squab," and frequently ate from her hand. 



CHAPTER XIX 

PIGEON LOVE AND CONFIDENCE 

I DO not criticize or condemn those who 
care less than I for these gentle feathered 
creatures. We are not all similarly con- 
stituted, and I recognize the fact that to 
many a little squab is never so attractive as 
when served on toast : that pigeons are vexa- 
tions except en cassolette, I know that my 
pigeons are not angels, and being very ma- 
terial little creatures, likewise thoughtless of 
the sensibilities of us humans, are prone to 
V decorate window sill and ledges in most in- 
artistic fashion. 

But let us regard the French proverb : ''II 
ne faut pas juger des gens par leurs d6- 
fauts"; and judge not one another by our 
shortcomings. And I, who know whereof I 

96 



PIGEON LOVE 97 

speak, can testify to the fidelity and love of 
pigeons for their benefactors. 

Is a little creature hurt or wounded? — he 
promptly seeks the Piazza for sympathy and 
aid. Has he been shot? — ^with the warm 
blood dripping from his little wound, he 
hastens to the place where he is sure of com- 
fort. He seems to know instinctively that 
absorbent cotton and antiseptic ointment, 
together with willing hands, are in readiness 
to serve him. 

And even in their frights they hasten to us. 
Poor Pointie thought one day that the 
last day had surely come, and promptly 
sought a refuge where he was sure of wel- 
come. A heavy snow, fallen in the night, 
was glistening in the clear morning sunshine. 
Pointie, on his little personal veranda just 
above his dove-cote, was chanting his pgean 
of praise and gratitude for his happy life 
when lo! an avalanche of soft white sub- 
stance submerged his confident little figure 
and proudly lifted head. He thought, per- 



98 AT MY WINDOW 

haps, it had descended from the heavens; 
whereas it was the mere commonplace pro- 
ceeding of house-men clearing the roof. 
However, Pointie's instinct for self-preser- 
vation gave impetus to liis wings as he hast- 
ened to the Piazza. The window was open, 
but the lace curtains were drawn across. 
But Pointie was determined to enter, and his 
energetic beak separated the curtains and in 
a moment he was on the floor, moving agitat- 
edly about. We spoke soothingly to him, 
but he walked beyond us into the hall, and 
seeing the door of a large clothes closet 
standing open, selected it as his place of 
refuge. 

I followed hhn, speaking caressingly, and 
kneeling near him, extended my hand, an 
invitation that he always loved. With his 
usual confidence he alighted in my hand, but 
objected to being borne to the window, hast- 
ening again to the closet, seeming to think 
safety lay in darkness. To render it less at- 
tractive to him I turned on the electric light ; 



PIGEON LOVE 99 

and by much coaxing persuaded him to re- 
turn to my hand. But it was some time 
before I succeeded in convincing him that 
no harm would befall him on the Piazza with 
the other pigeons. After a while he over- 
came his fear and returned to his nest. 

How I should love to see the interior of 
that dove-cote! It must be of a spacious 
character, for Pointie is the father of many 
children, mostly twins, and I have never had 
the pleasure of teaching liis highly cultured 
little ones to eat. Some of the tiny squabs 
who have been left by their parents on the 
Piazza, and whom Mattie describes as "not 
half hatched," although hungry, gaze indif- 
ferently at the pigeon food in my hand, not 
understanding what it is, play with it, toss- 
ing it about with their little beaks, and then 
jump into my hand, snuggling down and 
making a bed of what I have intended for 
their breakfast. Later, seeing the older 
pigeons come to eat, the grain in my hand 
becomes to them a revelation of deepest joy. 



100 AT MY WINDOW 

But the Pointies are very conscientious 
and devoted parents, housing their little ones 
until fully grown and amply able to care for 
themselves. Hence I conclude their little 
home is large enough to accommodate four 
pigeons at a time comfortably. I can fancy 
it a cosy pigeon suite of several rooms. And 
the nest is undoubtedly a most important 
feature in a j^igeon's life. It is, I am sure, 
the center of their existence: all their joys 
and sorrows are woven therein. 

But Pointie's adventure in the snow had 
not the pathos of a little midnight visitor we 
received one time in summer. We called her 
''Mopie," this ailing little squab, because her 
predilection was to sit alone all day in an at- 
titude of brooding. She seemed disinchned 
or unable to partake of food, and was losing 
strength each day. I tried to coax her to 
take some milk, but she appeared to dislike 
it, preferring merely to sit quietly in the sun 
till the last pigeon had left the Piazza, when 
she would take her departure across the 
Square. 



PIGEON LOVE 101 

But this quiet summer evening we were 
amazed to see a little shadow flitting past our 
eastern window, around the corner to the 
Piazza. We took her in, poor little Mopie, 
whose instinct seemed to warn her that her 
life was ebbing, wishing to be near us at the 
last. Or else she came seeking relief, suf- 
fering unmistakably from asthma, gasping 
for breath. We burned asthmatic pastilles 
near her, as I held her in my hand, and soon 
she manifested distinct relief, but not for 
long. With parted beak, the gasping was re- 
sumed, each gasp fainter than the one be- 
fore; and as I held her toward the summer 
breeze, telling her she was my dearest little 
pigeon, the little head fell limply on my 
fingers ; and as our clock was chiming twelve 
her suffering was over. 



CHAPTER XX 

PIGEON GRATITUDE AND TENDERNESS 

RETURNING from the country one 
year, we were wondering which of our 
pigeons would be the first to greet us. It 
proved to be a little unnamed squab, who 
had developed into a pigeon during our ab- 
sence. Being the first one to discover our 
return, we called him Christopher Columbus, 
shortening it to Christy. 

I had paid him unusual attention one 
morning when he was on the Piazza alone, 
giving him the choicest portion of the menu ; 
and having satisfied his appetite, he flew 
across the Square, to his nesting place. But 
in a few moments he returned, looking very 
curious as he approached by reason of the 
object he was carrying in his bill; and he 
placed before me a bright new hairpin ! He 

102 



PIGEON GRATITUDE 103 

looked straight into my eyes as I thanked 
him, and then immediately flew away. 

How could I construe the pretty act, ex- 
cept as a little thank-offering! 

Some of the pigeons, especially the squabs 
of an affectionate disposition, give a charm- 
ing little manifestation of their grateful love, 
by forming with their little beaks a gentle 
tracery over our hands, very suggestive of 
the finest lace. They also go through a little 
process of manicuring, consisting of the ten- 
derest little pecks over our hands and finger 
tips, which is very endearing. They are, as a 
rule, gentle little creatures, with, of course, 
some exceptions. 

One little fellow was so much addicted to 
molesting his neighbors, that we christened 
him "The Fighter." Even I was not exempt 
from his predilection, and it used to charm 
me to place myself on the defensive, though 
I usually was the aggressor, challenging him 
by pulling a feather, asking : 

"Do you want to fight me?" 



104 AT MY WINDOW 

And his menacing attitude and flashing 
eye was ahnost an uttered answer of: 

''Yes I dor 

"Very well," I would say, "come along, 
although I'm dreadfully afraid of you!" and 
the combat would begin. 

In justice to myself I will mention that 
I always fought fair, by using only one hand. 
And to reconcile my conscience to the rep- 
rehensible conduct of teasing a little pigeon, 
I keep in mind the fact that he would rather 
fight than eat. 

Bending forward, I would pull his tail, 
which he considered a terrible insult ; and he 
would pounce upon my hand and peck me. 
I would draw back telling him I was fright- 
ened to death, at the same time pulling his 
Leak. Then he would advance, flapping me 
vigorously with his wing, and whilst it was 
raised, I would tickle him; a worse insult 
than pulling his tail. 

But in a few moments I would withdraw 
my hand, telling him he had won the battle. 



PIGEON GRATITUDE 105 

"And now we must make up, for we weren't 
really angry, were we? We love each other, 
don't we ? We were only teasing each other, 
were we not? And now we must have a 
pretty dinner." 

By this time his anger would be appeased, 
and he would draw near to me, very much 
interested as I produced the boxes. Before 
I spoke again, his anger would have entirely 
vanished, liis eyes softened, and his whole 
demeanor became as gentle as the proverbial 
dove. 

"Now, what shall we have first? — A little 
cracked corn as the hors-d^wuvre? Does that 
taste nice? Shall we have dehghtful hemp- 
seed as an entrie? Some pigeon food as the 
pitce de resistance? And your own beloved 
new corn for dessert? Now isn't that a de- 
licious dinner? Ah! you shake your feathers 
and wend your way to the fountain for a 
drink. How thirsty you were! Don't go 
yet; come, take another piece of corn; 
here, you left it in my hand. That's right! 



106 AT MY WINDOW 

Haven't we had a lovely time this morning? 
Good-bye!" 

But one day Mrs. Pointie was digesting 
a hearty luncheon, perched on the side of 
the basin, when Fighter came along and I 
challenged him. Her little eyes nearly 
started out of her head when she saw him 
rush at me, and I retreated in pretended 
fright. She darted from her perch to the 
other end of the Piazza where the fight was 
in progress, and placing herself in front of 
my hand, directed peck after peck at 
Fighter. 

Was it any wonder that I felt a renewal 
of love for my little champion! 

I often, in thought, compare my pigeons 
with those beautiful ones at San Marco, 
Venice. It delighted me to feed the Vene- 
tian pigeons after purchasing the bags of 
corn from the venders. I thought them 
pretty and tame, and enjoyed having them 
around me. But they never appealed to my 
heart as these, my New York pigeons do, 



PIGEON GRATITUDE 107 

for they impressed me as being tame merely 
through stress of hunger, whereas our pig- 
eons love us for ourselves, and delight in 
being near us even when there is no question 
of food. If they are sunning themselves at 
one window, and hear our voices at another, 
they immediately change their quarters to be 
near us. Some of them have located my 
dressing-room window, and love to peer in at 
me. 

One in particular, "Burnsy," a grandchild 
of Winton, who was christened when a 
squab, having flown into the window and 
perched on the radiator when the heat was 
full on. I was feeding the pigeons at the 
window, and on turning around, discovered 
him hopping from foot to foot, not having 
sense enough to know that he was being 
burned, when I rescued him. I covered my 
left hand tliickly with cold cream, fining the 
other with pigeon food; and under the pre- 
tense that I was giving him his breakfast, 
succeeded in keeping him standing in the 



108 AT MY WINDOW 

cold cream for some time. 

Although Doctor is his special favorite, 
he loves me, too, and is very much interested 
in my toilet each morning. He is now a 
large bird, and it is highly amusing to see 
him stand, literally on liis tip toes, to reach 
a part of the lace curtain through which he 
can peer most easily, as I sit before my dress- 
er. I tell Doctor he wishes to make sure 
what kind of hairpins I am using. When I 
discover him gazing in, I call to him : 

"It is all right, Burnsy; you will approve 
of these hairpins, I am sure!" 

He is one of our most affectionate pigeon s> 
but has a jealous and irascible temper. The 
only fault, however, I have to find with him, 
is his harshness towards Nydia, my little 
blind pigeon. 

One year at Naples when exploring the 
marvels of Pompeii, while the courier was 
discussing antiquities with the scientific mem- 
ber of my family, in a language unlearned 
by me, I was lost in a labyrinth of musing 



PIGEON GRATITUDE 109 

over scenes in Lord Lytton's wonderful 
work. And I thought if ever I had a blind 
pet, its name should be Nydia. That was a 
number of years ago, and it is only recently 
I have had the misfortune of possessing a pet 
to whom the appellation is appropriate. 

She came to the Piazza one day, small and 
young, yet older than a squab, the sight ut- 
terly gone from one eye. I was really 
ashamed of the reception she received from 
my pigeons, in their strenuous efforts to ex- 
clude her from the Piazza. For the "Ren- 
dezvous Club" is of a most exclusive char- 
acter, in fact is a close corporation, intended 
solely for the benefit of the old families of 
the Square, and their descendants. 

However, I had little difficulty in impart- 
ing to Nydia the fact that she had a staunch 
protector, and that my hand was always 
ready to hold her aloft from her tormentors. 
My authority was recognized by all, Burnsy 
being my only rebellious subject. It angered 
him to see this intruder treated as an old and 



110 AT MY WINDOW 

honored member of the Club ; and he did not 
disguise his resentment. 

One day he was pirouetting and scolding 
to an unusual extent, joining another jeal- 
ous pigeon in pecking her little feet and legs 
as I held her above their heads. I raised my 
hand higher, beyond their reach, when 
Burnsy caught at the lace at my wrist, shak- 
ing it in a perfect paroxysm of anger. I 
tapped his head, reproving him for a very 
naughty pigeon, saying: 

"What would Doctor say if he saw you 
tearing my sleeve, Burnsy? Do you think 
he would let you take a nap on his shoulder, 
if he knew you were so naughty to me?" 

And, as if understanding me, unloosening 
his grasp, he stood aside, rebuked and peni- 
tent. 

Placing Nydia in a quiet corner which she 
always selects, I arranged a little luncheon 
beside her, and gave my attention to Burnsy. 
Producing some corn I called him to me, say- 
ing: 



PIGEON GRATITUDE 111 

"Do you see that beautiful golden sheen 
over the river, Burnsy? That is a reflection 
of the setting sun. Let it not go down on 
thy wrath! Come, Burnsy dear, let us play 
^KissieCornT' 



CHAPTER XXI 

FINALE 

THESE little anecdotes might be pro- 
longed indefinitely, so many incidents 
occur each day. 

We have now many pigeons and squabs 
at our window, no two quite alike in dispo- 
sition, thus contributing to the liveliness on 
the Piazza. We have even concluded that 
we have some charming little suffragettes in 
our pigeon colony, as the male birds have 
considerable difficulty in persuading their 
mates that the home is their province, and 
that the mdnage is being neglected. But the 
little females appear quite fascinated with 
the Piazza, declining to be sent to the dove- 
cote; and the males pursue them, administer- 
ing reprimanding pecks in protest. I infer 
there is some nest-duty to be attended to, 

112 



FINALE 113 

and the instinct of the male bird appears 
very keen in this regard. 

However, they afford us much amusement, 
particularly one couple who seem to differ 
very much in opinion on the subject; the wil- 
ful little female usuallj^ seeking final refuge 
on Doctor's arm, where her mate does not 
pursue her, seeming to tliink she is encour- 
aged and protected in her wrong-doing. 

Retrospective musing fills me with sur- 
prise regarding the pigeons, at one time so 
timid and cautious. For it was not my in- 
tention to tame them ; I wished merely to be 
kind to them, contribute to their happiness, 
and brighten their little lives; and their con- 
fidence and affection is simply marvelous. 
For four years, now, the pigeons and I have 
been dear to each other. 

I very soon learned that in many ways 
they are much like humans, and that we 
somewhat resemble them. Indeed, I have in 
mind a couple who remind me very much of 
pigeons, in their devotion to each other and 



114 AT MY WINDOW 

to their little home life, almost to the exclu- 
sion of the outside world. I often laughing- 
ly refer to them as "pigeons." 

I always have a pang of regret when 
leaving home, for a time, lest our pigeons 
suffer by our absence; and I am entirely in 
sympathy with the poet, in his charming 
verses, published not long ago, when he 
sings : 

' ' For all the time the heart of me, 
The better, sweeter part of me, 
Was sobbin' for the robin, 
In the fields of Bally clare. " 



SEP 18 13" 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



stF 1^ '^n 



